Priorities
by Loony4moony816
Summary: Dead or in jail or both by 2030. Puck truly believed it. If it wasn't sooner that that, at least. This is a continuation of the post-Michael fic I posted last week. This is a series of post-ep fics that I call the "Rectifying Canon" series.


Noah Puckerman never really thought about Kurt Hummel's strength. Physical, that is. J-Money knows the kid's got a will of iron. Why would he ever consider his physical strength? Have you seen the kid? He's _tiny_. His hands are softer than any girl's. No _way_ that kid works out.

Which means he got his strength from the gods a la some Thor shit, because _damn_.

Puck was just walking to his locker when a hand reached out, grabbed his shirt, and forcibly dragged him into an empty classroom. Where he'd been thrown into a wall. And pinned there with an arm across his chest.

It _hurt_.

"What the ever loving fuck are you _doing_, Hummel?" Puck couldn't believe the Hulk-like strength belonged to Kurt Hummel, but there he was. Turtleneck and weird-ass bag galore. "I've beat up people for a lot less then what you're doing now."

Kurt increased the pressure on his chest by shoving his arm further.

"I'm taking a leaf out of your book, _Puck_. After that show last week, you'd think the only way a person _really _listens to a guy is by pinning them to a wall. Or did you forget your little tête-à-tête with Sebastian?"

The name alone had Puck seething with rage. His blood raced with the memory of the smug asshole's face as he wielded that goddamn slushie. One day, Puck would forgive himself for inventing that brand of hazing. Today was not that day.

"So I'm the jackass in this scenario. Thanks, dude. I love you too." Kurt's face went slack with shock for about three seconds before Puck saw it harden in determination.

"You did insult a friend of mine, Puckerman. And I'm not going to let that pass."

Puck's jaw dropped. Who the fuck did he diss this time? "Look, if it's about that crack I made about Sam's song to Mercedes, he thought it was fu—"

"You!" Puck was confused. What did that m—"You insulted yourself and I'm not going to let that pass!"

Puck nearly snorted. Right. He would do this. Whatever. Puck shoved Kurt as gently as possible and broke the hold he had on him. "You might as well. It's not the first or last time it's gonna happen, Hummel." He turned to walk out the door when Kurt's hand closed around his shoulder and he was wrenched back against the wall.

"Dude, what the _fuck_—"

"Dude! Shut _up_." Puck didn't know if it was the command that made him do it, or the fact that _Kurt Hummel_ called him 'Dude'. Either way, his jaw was clamped up like the time he had it wired shut.

Kurt continued, blue eyes blazing with a rage Puck had only seen reserved for Azimio and stirrup pants. "You said you'd be dead or in jail or _both_ by 2030. In my book, that is a _hundred_ times worse than what Sebastian did to Blaine!"

"Are you fucking _serious?_ First you think that winning a fucking _singing competition_ is good revenge for nearly blinding your boytoy. And now you think me calling myself a fucking _loser_ is worse than _assault. _Jesus, _fuck_, Hummel. With friends like you, who needs executioners?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed further until they were slits of angry, angry, _pissed_ blue. "And with self-esteem like yours, who needs a stab in the heart? You're doing a pretty good job of killing yourself."

"I don't need to listen to this—"

"Yes, you _fucking_ do, Noah."

There it was. The reason Puck was so uneasy about the whole interaction (other than the fact that he was now pretty sure Kurt could take him in an arm wrestling match). Puck, Dude, Puckerman. Those are not names Kurt uses with him.

Noah. With Kurt, he was always Noah.

"Since when does Princess Hummel curse?"

"Since he realized one of his best friends hated himself so much, he couldn't see all the great things about him." Kurt's eyes were shining with unshed tears and Puck's stomach dropped somewhere near his feet.

"Kurt, please—"

"No, Noah! You can't expect to say something like that and not have anyone _notice_."

"Well, eighteen years of my life is a pretty good tract record."

Kurt breath cracked on a sob and next thing Puck knew, Kurt's face was pressed up into his chest and his shirt was getting damp. Hesitantly, Puck placed his hands on Kurt's back, wincing as it started shaking with sobs.

"How could we have missed this? _How?_"

Puck snorted derisively, "Dude, if my mother doesn't notice, you think I expected a bunch of self-centered teenagers to? I don't blame you for any of this."

Kurt pulled back, face turned up to glare at Puck. His skin was red and stained with still-falling tears. "You think I'm upset because I think you _blame_ me for this? Fuck you, you never thought of us as friends at all, did you?"

Puck growled, "Because your past months of college applications and boyfriend _bullshit_ has been such a great way of paying attention to _me?"_

Kurt paused, eyes widening in realization before he shook himself out of it. "I shouldn't have to pay attention to you for you to know how amazing of a person you are!"

The silence in the room was almost suffocating, but Puck found the breath to scoff.

"Yeah, amazingly fucked up."

The slap came out of nowhere. Once second, Kurt's hand was against his own chest and the next, it was connecting with the side of Puck's face.

"You don't get to say things like that, Noah Puckerman. You don't get to spout off such _lies_. You, who is a ridiculously loving, caring, and _protective_ person doesn't get the right to throw all of that away with stupid, _fucking_ words. No. Not when I'm around to hear them."

"Then you better not spend time with me, because it's been going on a lot longer than one stupid, off-hand comment in Glee." Puck spit out the words with as much effort as it took to _not_ smack Kurt back, because, fucking hell, it fucking hurt.

"I know." Kurt's voice was quiet with shame and pain. "It had to have, if you could say something like that to a group of people that supposedly love you with such ease and nonchalance."

He took a step closer to Puck, hands going to each of Puck's shoulders, molding themselves like they were meant to be there. Kurt's face was now an inch from his and Puck could feel his breath shortening at the proximity of Kurt's baby blues to his own gaze. "I'm sorry, Noah. For not noticing your pain sooner. For not showing you how much you mean to me. For not caring for you the way you care for everyone in that club." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on Puck's and Puck found himself closing his eyes too, relaxing into the touch. He felt Kurt's next words on his face.

"But I promise, I will make it up to you. Starting right now."

He stepped back, letting go of Puck's shoulders and reaching for something inside his bag. Puck took the opportunity to regain his footing, but Kurt knocked _everything_ out of him.

"Here. These are for you." Puck blinked as a stack of papers and folders entered his field of vision and he took them from Kurt, slowly, fingers brushing against Kurt's.

"What are—"

"Those are applications for schools whose deadlines have not passed yet. They're all over: Ohio, Chicago, New York. They have football _and_ music programs. I think they'd be good for you."

"College?" Puck was dumbstruck. "Are you out of your mind, Hummel? There's no way—"

"If there was no way you'd go to college, why bother taking the SATs? And why bother getting a nearly perfect score on the math section?" Kurt bit out.

Puck stared, "How did you know about that?"

"I broke into your locker to put these in there anonymously, but when I saw the envelope with your scores, I got too angry and decided to have this conversation face to face."

"Broke into my—"

"Like I said, taking a leaf out of your book, Noah. Don't you think it's been good for me so far?" Kurt replied, cheekily.

Puck shook his head to clear it, "Kurt, I'm not getting in to college."

"Yes, you are. Because you are a football player that gave up sports for Glee. You're a teenage father that cares more about your daughter than anything else. You're a former bully that went to beat up a prep-school _jackass_ that tried to hurt your former target. They say high school is about growing up, Noah. No one has shown me that more than you." Kurt's eyes were serious, glowing with fondness and admiration. And pride. There was a hell of a lot of pride in that gaze. Puck didn't see it directed at him very often, but he recognized the sentiment easily.

"Write a kick ass essay and send me everything before you apply. I'll proofread it for you, because I know how you spell. Now, I must depart and knock sense into another singing football player that thinks marrying Rachel Berry is a good idea."

"Wait, _what?"_

Kurt turned back to Puck, "I know. What's it with you jocks and self-esteem? Aren't you supposed to have it in spades?"

A thought struck Puck and he couldn't help blurting it out, "So, you got your practice round in with me and now can give the speech better to Finn?"

Kurt froze, back to Puck. A second later, he whirled around and made three determined strides over to Puck with such force, Puck was seriously afraid he was about to get hit. Again.

"Don't make me smack you again, Noah Puckerman." Kurt's face was even closer to his than before, breath warm. "Did it ever occur to you that I have priorities?"

"You're dating a hobbit." Puck didn't mean to sound so jealous, really. He hoped Kurt wouldn't notice.

"Shut up." Kurt's voice was amused. "I have priorities and I like doing the most important tasks on my list first. You were on the top of my list, my number one priority."

Puck could honestly say he'd never heard that one before. His eyes watered unintentionally and he wondered if he could get away with the 'something's in my eye' excuse.

"Right."

"Get those apps done ASAP. I'm in an editing mood, Puckerman!" With that and a wave of his arm, Kurt strut out of the room, head held high.

Puck looked at the applications in his hand. Picking up the NYU application, he read the first question.

_What makes you special? Please describe a way you stand out in 500 words or less_.

500 words? Puck could give them six.

_I'm Kurt Hummel's number one priority. _


End file.
